Two Days and Two Hundred Years Ago
by goldennight16
Summary: In which Merlin discovers Camelot's oldest remaining resident after a statue magically comes to life before his eyes. Merlin, Gwaine, Arthur, knights etc, feat. OC character.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello! Wow, haven't done this in a while. This is actually my first attempt at a Merlin story, so I want to apologize to anyone who was author-alerted over here under false pretenses from my scant VD posts ages ago - I'm so sorry, please feel free to exit.**

**Warnings: fairly action-light story, pretty much character based only, and there will be Gwaine-ness later on, 'cause I love him :)**

**I don't own BBC Merlin in any capacity.**

**Hope you like it :)**

Merlin didn't know what it was.

Whether it was the bright sunshine streaming down upon the turrets of Camelot, the birdsong in the air, or the way Arthur was twitching in his sleep, something about that morning told him that today was the day to venture a conversation with his employer about a matter that had been bothering him for some time.

Merlin threw the curtains back on the railings, flooding the prince's chambers with stark dawn light. "Why don't you ever give me any days off of work?" he demanded, before Arthur could get his defences up.

Arthur's face remained pressed face-down into his pillow. "What?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only servant in the whole castle who never gets a single free day. Even once a month would be something."

Rolling out of bed, Arthur fixed Merlin with a doubtful yet distinctly bleary stare, before reaching for his breakfast. "Well, you're _my _only servant," he pointed out, "so that means that you're more important than the rest." Before Merlin could find a compliment in the words, he added, "Because you're serving the prince."

"And a prince should show some sort of kindness toward his subjects," Merlin returned, lifting both eyebrows pointedly before gathering Arthur's armour for him.

"What would you do with a day off?" Arthur said through a mouthful of bread.

"Whatever I wanted, that's sort of the point. You know, some masters just give free time as a reward for all their hard work."

"I think we've just stumbled across the reason why you don't have any, then."

Sighing, Merlin affected a thoughtful expression, tapping his index finger against his chin. "Oh, so that _wasn't _me who fetched you breakfast, got your bath ready, cleaned your boots and your armour and still woke up at dawn in order to get you out of bed on time? My mistake."

They both paused as Merlin finished his sarcastic spiel, with Merlin watching for some sign of airborne objects, but fortunately, there didn't seem to be any within Arthur's reach.

"Shut up, Merlin," he settled on, and continued getting dressed. "And polish that sword while you're at it," he instructed, gesturing at the blade with one hand as he buckled his belt. "I want it sharpened as well; it didn't even leave a mark on the shield yesterday."

With a small nod that wasn't completely insincere, Merlin picked up the blade and carried out of the room, revelling in the strange sensation of walking out of Arthur's chambers without having to duck.

In the end, Merlin simply decided to leave the sword at the armoury for the time being, as he had no particular designs on sharpening it at dawn, when he other chores to complete for Arthur. Absently, it struck the young warlock that if it weren't for the catastrophic – and frequently magical – events that plagued Camelot, he would probably be completely swallowed my monotony.

It wasn't something he thought about very often, but at times, his destiny did make his life interesting at the very least. Even if he did have to return to tidy up after Arthur _yet again._

He continued on his way through the castle, taking the northwest corridor as usual, passing by the old, marble statue standing at the beginning of the hall, and then by the rusty sword hanging on the wall, and then passed the window. He had walked this hall so many times it was almost pathetic how well he knew it.

Another squire walked by, and for a brief moment as Merlin turned his head, he heard a strange trickling sound right in his ear, like sand cascading over the planes of an hourglass.

Merlin turned slowly, his sharp blue eyes scouring the hall for some sign of danger. But there was no longer anyone in the corridor besides himself, and the noise had inexplicably faded.

"Hello?" he said uncertainly. There was no response.

Scoffing slightly under his breath, Merlin turned back to continue on his errand, but the moment his head shifted around, he heard the noise again. Barely on the edge of his hearing, and just louder than a trickling stream, but it was definitely there. His head whipped around in frustration, a frown marring his forehead, and this time, Merlin noticed something that he had not before – a slight cloud of white dust floating around the head of the statue at the far end of the corridor.

Merlin walked forward cautiously, staring at the sculpture with greater scrutiny. As he got closer, he saw the tiny, almost unnoticeable cracks that were spiderwebbing out over the surface of the stone, splintering the man's face and skin. He stopped a few short steps away, as the stone eyelids began to shift upward, dislodging another puff of white dust and stone flakes that sprinkled lightly to the floor beside the wooden base. Beneath those lids lay a pair of startlingly human brown eyes that shone in stark contrast to his white, powdered face.

Before the young sorcerer's eyes, the rest of the statue's face began to break free of the stone casing, followed by its hand and the rest of its sculpted body. Plaster began to fall in flakes away from his body, revealing the smooth, elastic and completely _human_ skin beneath. The process was increasing, speeding up like water pouring out over a table-top. Soon, there was a full, living man standing in a pile of white dust, clothed in an identical copy of the white robes in which he had been depicted.

Merlin's eyes were wide with shock, his mouth slightly ajar. "Uh… hello?"

The man blinked his white-crusted eyelashes once, a look of profound confusion on his handsome face. "Where am I?" he managed in a rough voice. Instantly, he was racked over in a coughing fit and handfuls of powder were expelled from his lungs.

"Easy," Merlin said in a concerned voice. His hands rose as if to pat him on the back, but he thought the better of it, and kept his distance from the man. In his experience, magical creatures tended to bring him nothing but mischief – if, on the off chance, they weren't trying to kill Arthur or take over Camelot in some way.

"Where's Landon?" the man demanded the moment his airways were clear. "Where's the king?"

Merlin was nonplussed. "You mean Uther."

"What?"

"King Uther Pendragon," he clarified. "You're in Camelot. I don't know who Landon is."

If anything, the stone man looked more out of his depth that Merlin did in that moment. He was staring that the young man, agape, as if _he _was the one speaking complete nonsense, rather than the other way around.

"Who?" he asked blankly, and then he was distracted again, looking around the corridor with wide eyes. "What about Isaac? Where is Isaac?" As he said the name, anger clouded over his kind features, tinged with a strange hurt.

Merlin had no reply for that.

Even if he had, before either of them could say anything else, the unmistakable sound of chainmail footsteps reverberated off of the cobbled floors, making both heads swivel in the direction of the noise. Merlin recognised the muted sound of the guard's cheerful voices mingling with the footsteps, coming closer with every second.

Merlin looked to address the statue-man once more – though whether it was to urge him to run or to help in the arrest, he didn't know – but it turned out he didn't need Merlin's advice at all; he had already began running down the corridor, leaving powdered white footprints in his wake. Merlin's head whipped back and forth on his neck as he debated his options. He could either turn the statue in now and point the guards in the right direction – after all, he was actually not responsible for this particular act of sorcery – or he could let him run, and deal with the situation later. Perhaps he could even rope one of the knights into assisting him, he thought absently. By the time he had decided not to turn the statue in, the creature was already well out of sight, leaving Merlin with only a missing piece of artwork and a mess to clean up before Arthur arrived.

With a muttered incantation, Merlin's eyes glowed bright gold, and the footprints vanished.


	2. Oddly Selective Powers of Observation

The next day, as Merlin served the prince his breakfast and performed the enjoyable task of waking him up, Arthur informed the warlock that he was to accompany him to the fields for extra training.

"What do I need extra training for?" Merlin asked in bewildered voice, handing Arthur his belt.

"Not you," Arthur replied with a long-suffering sigh. He didn't see the way Merlin rolled his eyes at that behind his back. "It's for the knights. There were some break-ins in the town last night; people think some bandits have been attacking again."

Merlin tried not to show his sudden anxiety on his face. One day after he witnessed a stone statue come to life, and there were already reported attacks on Camelot. Somehow, he knew that if his involvement came to light, he would not come out as particularly blameless in Arthur's eyes.

Even so, he held onto a glimmer of hope.

"Bandits?" he repeated in what he hoped was on offhand tone. "Again?"

Arthur shot him an odd glance. "Yes, bandits. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"You get this strange look on your face when you're trying to hide something from me, just like that." He glared accusingly at the mild expression Merlin was struggling to maintain. "What is it? Just tell me."

Merlin folded his lips together for a moment, debating whether or not to actually reveal what had happened. Then, he sighed, letting his shoulders droop in defeat. "Alright. I didn't actually sharpen that sword," he lied shamefacedly. "It was one of the other servants."

Arthur glanced down at the blade, and then back up to Merlin's face. With a small bow of his head, he affected a magnanimous expression that Merlin was sure he had practised in the mirror. "Very well," he said. "Since you admitted this to me, I'll excuse the fact that you shirked your duties onto another. But just this once."

The young warlock managed to hide his smile. "Thank you."

"Glad that's settled." Fully prepared, Arthur accepted the sword from Merlin and threaded it through his belt. With one final glance over his armour, Merlin nodded his approval with a smile. "Let's go," Arthur said simply, and they left together.

Unfortunately, as Merlin realised partway into their walk, the path toward the training fields involved moving through the very northwest corridor that was missing that statue now hanging on his thoughts. By the time his mind caught up to the problem this posed, it was already too late. Any attempts to change their direction would be too suspicious for Arthur to pass up, even if he managed to remain oblivious to the absence of the sculpture.

As they rounded into the hall in question, Merlin was careful to keep his pace even and his face smooth. In hope to distract the prince, he struck up a conversation, saying the first thing that came to mind.

"Do you know of any King Landon?" he blurted.

Just as he'd wanted, Arthur's head turned toward him and away from the rapidly approaching empty space by the wall. His brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not sure," said Arthur pensively. "The name sounds vaguely familiar, though, why?"

They were almost upon it. "Uh, I think I heard one of the townspeople mention it earlier. I think he might have lived in Camelot."

"Hmm… I think you might be right, Merlin, as ridiculous as that sounds. I think there was a King Landon here, but it was at least a couple of centuries ago."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do pick up a book occasionally."

"Paper-weight?" Merlin asked innocently. They had passed by it now, and he was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I _read_," Arthur protested, and then abruptly halted. He blinked once, and then turned around. Merlin inwardly cringed as he walked over to the statue's spot and stared in consternation at the floor. "Merlin," he said in an odd tone, "wasn't there a sculpture here?"

"What? Ehm, I don't think so, no."

"I could have sworn… No, there was definitely a statue here, look! You can see the marks it left on the floor, there's a square right here on the stone!"

Not for the first time, Merlin had to curse the universe Arthur's oddly selective powers of observation. He had gone years without discovering Merlin's magic, but somehow he always managed to notice just enough little things to make his life extremely difficult.

"You're going to be late for the knights," Merlin prompted him, pointing toward the exit. "If you start slacking off on practice now, how are they going to react to you as King?"

Arthur was still frowning, but in his distraction, he deferred to Merlin's reasoning. "Right. Remind me to look into that later."

I'll do it myself, Merlin promised silently.

Down at the fields, the knights had already begun entertaining themselves with mock battles between one another. They paused the moment Arthur arrived, moving into a loosely formed assembly to wait as he strode onto the patchy grass.

"There have been more attacks on the streets of Camelot," Arthur announced in a loud voice as he approached, Merlin walking right beside him, "and this means that it is our responsibility to deal with these thieves ourselves. We need to train harder and work harder, to ensure that this doesn't go unchecked within the town. Understood? Let's get to work."

He directed them all into several groups, beginning the training exercises, and almost immediately, Gwaine split off from the group to join Merlin with a smile and a wave.

"Arthur roped you into coming down here again?" he teased as he leaned himself up against the wooden fence.

"Is this you 'training harder'?" Merlin returned, smirking.

"I showed up, didn't I? Besides, what with this unpleasantness with bandits, Arthur'll be too distracted with the younglings to bother with us."

Glancing back at the field, Merlin saw that Gwaine was right; mostly, Arthur was trying to coach some of the less experienced knights into better technique.

"You're sure it was bandits?" Merlin asked after a moment, his tone careful.

"Bandits, thieves, thugs – I'm fairly sure it's all the same in their eyes."

"What are you going to do?"

Gwaine shrugged. "There was talk of a patrol later, which probably means yours truly will be dragged out into the streets in the middle of night to check out some of the houses."

"Sir Gwaine?" Elyan called out in a wry voice, catching both men's attention. Pointedly, he glanced over at Arthur, who was looking less than pleased at the sight of his knight relaxing off the field.

"Ah," Gwaine sighed sorrowfully. "Seems I was wrong. I'll see you later," he said and nudged him with one elbow, making them both grin.

"Try not to go too hard on him!" Merlin called after him teasingly, to which Gwaine just winked, a positively gleeful smile on his face.

Moments later, Merlin regretted saying anything at all, as Arthur turned to his servant instead. "Merlin, pick up a sword. You're going to assist me today."


	3. Neverending Mysteries

As Gwaine had predicted, the patrol did head out at nightfall, and it consisted of Arthur and his own personally selected knights. It was not an unusual sight for those men to be seen guarding the streets of Camelot, since their return after defeating 'The Usurper Pendragon'. However, this time they were clad only in their most conservative armour, bereft of their ceremonial red and knightly crests. Strangely enough, there was not much in the way of protests from the knights themselves on that manner.

Arthur did attempt to convince Merlin that he should stay behind, but as ever, he was amongst the warriors as they crept into the lower town of Camelot, with the proviso that should the fighting actually begin, Merlin would ensure he was out of the thick of it. The prince claimed only that this was to prevent him from getting in the way and ruining the entire endeavour, rather than any concern for his safety.

While none of the knights technically refuted his word, the scepticism was tangible, as was their general amusement. Since each one knew and liked Merlin in their own way, the decision was accepted, and he was subsequently given the best opportunity to find out whether or not the statue-man was involved in the robberies.

Nevertheless, as they reached the beginning of the housing district, and Arthur waved his hand in a motion for quiet, Merlin pulled Lancelot aside.

"If you happen to see a tall man wearing white robes," he breathed, "leave him to me, alright?"

Lancelot caught on almost instantly. "Magic?" he whispered back.

Merlin nodded. "There's definitely some sort of enchantment involved."

The knight whispered his assent, smiling encouragingly, and then moved to re-join the ranks as they moved forward.

They ghosted past the first house without incident, neither hearing nor seeing any sort of disturbances within the building. Arthur had explained earlier that the plan was not to flush them out with intimidation, but to catch them first-hand so they could be locked up without doubt. But, as each quiet house blended into the next, and there was not a single sign of criminal activity anywhere, the knights began to get restless – Arthur included.

"Perhaps they were mistaken," Percival suggested reasonably, the usually taciturn man shrugging his massive shoulders.

"It happens," Leon agreed. "People's fears get the better of them."

"I saw the damage myself," Arthur demurred, shaking his head. "If they're not here tonight, we will just have to come back the next night."

"Thank you, Arthur," Merlin muttered sincerely under his breath, because he, too, still had his eyes peeled for any sign of the statue-man. He had definitely left the castle, as Merlin's exhaustive searching last night had proven, which meant that if he hadn't left Camelot completely, he had to be somewhere. Somehow, he doubted the break-ins could be completely unconnected from his mysterious revival.

Then, after over an hour's exploration – in which their formation had dissolved into a simple group of men wandering the dark streets – they finally heard something.

In one of the houses toward the outskirts, they could all hear the banging and shuffling emanating through the window. More suspiciously, it was the one house on the street that still had the candles lit, and the shadows were chaotic and shifting, as if people were walking before the flame.

Lancelot and Merlin exchanged a significant glance, and the knight subtly manoeuvred himself toward the front of the group.

"On my count," Arthur murmured, extending his hand toward the door. "One, two…"

In the split second before he said three, Merlin suddenly caught sight of the pale streak sprinting out back down the alleyway. It was just a flash of white, but instinctively, he knew it was his statue man.

"… _three!_"

Just as the knights burst through the door to the house, Merlin took off in the other direction, their shouts echoing behind him as he ran. He sprinted through the alleyway, following the still visible figure a few yards ahead of him. Even if he was not a particularly talented warrior – as Arthur had proven on many occasions – Merlin was quick on his feet, and he had an advantage on the other in speed. He knew he was gaining on him. After all, how many times had he had to run through this darkened streets for some reason or another?

Finally, he burst into a small alcove in the market square and was startled to find his missing statue standing right before his eyes. An incantation sprung to his lips immediately, but he managed to hold his tongue as the rest of the scene came to his attention.

Though the statue-man's back was to him originally, he had slowly turned; enough for Merlin to see the struggling man held within his grip. While that should have been cause for alarm, it was painfully obvious that the victim was one of the bandits because of the treasures that were leaking from his overstuffed pockets.

Head cocked, Merlin watched curiously as the statue-man kept his iron hold on the man's neck. Slowly, the bandit stopped struggling and fainted in his arms, and was lowered to the floor.

Only then did the statue-man's eyes lift to meet Merlin's, a vague recognition stirring in their depths.

"I remember you," he said in an oddly calm voice, as if he hadn't just strangled a man into unconsciousness. "You were there when I woke up."

"Yes," Merlin replied warily.

The man glanced down at the thief at his feet once. "He was breaking into the house across the alley," he explained, pointing back the way they came. "I found them and he tried to run back here. The others might be free of their restraints by now, though, I didn't have time to tie the ropes very well."

"… You were _helping _the townspeople?"

He looked slightly startled by the suggestion – again, they seemed to be on opposite sides of normalcy. "Of course. I would have helped out sooner, but I could not procure a sword, and they fled last night at the sight of me." Merlin might have, too, he thought as he had to bend his neck slightly to look at the man's face. "But I had expected more than simple burglars, to be honest.

"My apologies," he exclaimed suddenly. "My name is Arno."

In one of the strangest introductions Merlin had ever experienced, he extended his hand out over the body at his feet, smiling in a friendly way. Hesitantly, Merlin shook it.

"You do… know what happened to you, don't you?" he asked carefully.

"Not as much as I'd like," Arno said darkly, "but I have a vague picture of it. I was turned to stone, correct?"

"Uh, yes. Sorry."

"_Merlin!"_

Both their heads swung in the direction of Arthur's frustrated shout, and Merlin winced slightly. Again, he found himself wondering whether or not to take a chance on the man before him, who looked like he was debating whether or not there was a threat coming.

"Look," Merlin murmured, "go to the physician's chambers, and tell the man there that Merlin sent you. I'll be there soon."

Arno nodded slowly, and then pointed to the thief. "Would you like me to take him with me?" In truth, he looked a little too eager about the idea.

"No, I think it's fine. Arthur will be more than happy to have another victory tonight."

"Very well," he said simply, and then he disappeared out of the alley.

"Over here!" Merlin shouted, once he knew that Arno was a safe distance away from, and in a matter of seconds, Arthur was jogging into the alley with his sword drawn out.

"What are –" He stopped short as he caught sight of the burglar. In astonishment, his eyes moved up to Merlin's face. "Did you do that?" he demanded.

Affecting a noncommittal expression that he knew would infuriate the prince, Merlin gestured with his chin back through the streets. "You should probably get him with the others."

Dumbfounded, Arthur did as he suggested and lifted the man on one shoulder, muttering something about the never-ending mysteries of the world. He glanced back at his manservant as he trotted along behind him, his face filled with both scepticism and perplexity; his expression clearly said that there would be an inquisition set in to discover what had actually occurred.

Merlin looked quite pleased with himself, really.


	4. Riots, Assaults, Takeovers, Regicides

**AN: Kind of a short chapter, I know, but it was either shorter or obscenely long **

"So it really was bandits," Merlin said for the third time, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think it's ever actually turned out that simple before."

"Uh, Merlin?" Gaius prompted gently.

"I mean, honestly, every time there's some break-in, it usually ends up being some nefarious scheme or plot on Camelot or Arthur, or there's a sorcerer threatening the castle, or it's some other assassin coming into the town – I really can't remember the last time it was just thieves!"

"Yes, it's all very interesting, but we have a more pressing matter on our hands."

"Sorry."

Gaius, Merlin and Arno were sitting around the physician's table, Arno on one end while the other two sat across from him. Despite the interrogation style to the conversation, the man appeared at ease – curious and eager for information, for obvious reasons, but calm nonetheless.

"What do you remember?" Gaius asked Arno.

"I remember… I remember my home before we went. There was a small disturbance going on between the court sorcerers and the knights at the time, so I was trying to restore order. Isaac was one of those sorcerers, and he was with me."

Merlin leaned forward at 'court sorcerers'. "So this was before the time of the purge," he said in wonder. "_Long _before."

"Yes," Arno agreed emphatically, smiling. "To me, the idea sounds ridiculous even when I see the results before my eyes. Back home, it would have been unthinkable – even impossible, because of the sheer magnitude. Trying to rid the world of magic… who thinks that that's a good plan?"

"King Uther Pendragon," said Gaius and Merlin in unison.

Arno hid a smile. "Regardless, the last thing I remember is being in the castle. I was running through the castle, because there was a fire in the throne room – one of the sorcerers was throwing flames around all over – and I was supposed to reason with them. Then, nothing. Finally, I woke up with a lungful of dust and I was standing in the middle of a corridor. The rest you know."

"Fascinating," Gaius said. "It sounds like some sort of curse."

"With what you've said, there were probably curses and spells flying all over the place," Merlin guessed. "Maybe you were hit accidentally."

"Or on purpose," Arno added without batting an eyelid.

"What do you mean?"

"Isaac. He was right with me during the fight – at my side. He was one of the court sorcerers that were hired solely to serve the king, and he was running with me the entire time. We were friends, of a sort. If it had been an accident, he would have been able to fix the effects for me. And if not… well, if anyone had the power to turn me into stone for the rest of my life, it would have been him."

The others exchanged a glance. "You're awfully calm about all of this," Gaius commented, to which the man shrugged.

"Battles such as those are nothing new to me. Riots, assaults, takeovers, regicides – they're all very common." Merlin looked a little stunned by that. Then, Arno's face became very sombre, a darkness curling in his eyes. "There is something, though… my betrothed, Cadence. I had just visited her before I left. If it all possible, I'd like to know what became of her." Where his voice had remained steady throughout the retelling of his betrayal and cursed life, it wavered now.

"Of course," Merlin said instantly. "There's got to be some record of this in the library."

"We have some books here, also," Gaius added.

As Arno thanked them both, Merlin shot to his feet. "I have to go help Arthur now, but know that you're completely welcome here." He shot a cheeky grin at Gaius as he said it, full aware of the old man's weariness with Merlin me dealing out hospitality for _his _home.

* * *

><p>"So, what <em>do <em>you know about that missing statue in the hall?"

Arthur glanced up from the papers he was reading on his desk to shoot his manservant a look that was full of asperity. "You were supposed to remind me to look into that," he complained.

"Consider this your reminder," Merlin said wryly, smirking. One convenient thing about tidying Arthur's bedchambers was that he was not short of excuses to hide his face; Arthur couldn't see a thing. "So, what _do _you know –"

Arthur cut him off casually. "Not that much. I know it's been there longer than I have – or it was, before it was stolen."

"Maybe it just… moved."

"Well, it sure didn't get up and walk away on its own, now, did it Merlin?" Arthur sighed.

It was a moment before Merlin was able to form a reply, and even then, there was a smile in his voice. "Of course not, sire."

They were quiet for some time, the comfortable silence broken by the shuffling of Arthur's work or the rustle of the sheets Merlin was straightening.

"Perhaps it's fortunate it is gone," Arthur commented idly, looking back through his paperwork. "We've already had bad luck with artefacts in the northwest corridor, it must just attract thievery."

Merlin frowned, pausing in his work. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there was another statue there with it a few years ago – a woman, I think – but it was broken."

With a sinking stomach, Merlin remembered Arno's talk of his betrothed. Arthur was oblivious to his reaction.

"I think it was some prisoner escaping… they knocked it over as they went, shattered half of the sculpture in one go."

In spite of himself, Merlin winced at the image. He tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence, that it was simply a piece of artwork, something in his heart told him that they just weren't going to be that lucky. Somehow, in his world, it had become more likely that _two _people had been turned into statues rather than the alternative explanation.

"Do you know what happened to it?" he asked in an absent voice, turning back to his work.

"…Hm? Probably a storeroom somewhere. I think the one by that armoury – you know the one."

Merlin nodded, sighing. It was a mixed blessing to actually receive the knowledge he was looking for; on the one hand, he had what Arno had desired, but on the other, he had no desire to break the news to the man that his betrothed had been _broken._


	5. Ignorant CaveDweller

When Merlin returned to his quarters, his burden hanging heavily on his heart, only Gaius remained in the clinic. At his questioning glance, Gaius told him that Arno had headed out to the lower town to visit the market.

Content with another excuse to stall his disclosure about Cadence, Merlin had accepted the news gladly, and used as much time as possible in order to get there. Short of dragging his feet against the cobbled paths, he did everything he could to stall the journey. However, in the cruel way of the universe, for the first time in his life, it seemed there was absolutely nothing with which to occupy his time.

He supposed it was natural that the one time he needed a distraction, he was granted nothing but spare time.

As he descended the slanted road that led into the market, he was surprised to find that he hadn't needed to worry about being able to locate his new acquaintance: Arno was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by fellow patrons and storekeepers and throwing his head back in genuine laughter. It seemed that the people had gravitated toward him, drawn away from the individual stalls to create a group centred on him.

A bemused smile quirked Merlin's lips as he approached.

"Arno!" he called, catching the man's attention, and Arno looked over with a beaming smile on his face. It made Merlin's stomach twist to think about how he was about to ruin that happiness.

"Merlin!" Arno crowed, wading through his many admirers to join the boy's side. "Look at what these people have to offer." He pointed to a stack of oil paintings that the proprietor was offering, mostly of the landscapes of Camelot. "It's so different - it's fantastic!"

Despite himself, Merlin's smile widened a little at the infectious happiness in the other man's face.

No sooner could he say a single word had another storekeeper stepped forward with a cake for Arno to try, her face alight with glee. As far as he could see, not one of them was demanding or even asking for money in return as they pressed their wares into his hands for him to try. It was a singular phenomenon in the market, which was somewhat known for the frugality of its salesmen.

"It's wonderful. Everything even tastes different!" Arno exclaimed in wonder, shaking his head as he chewed. With a small chuckle, he said, "Maybe it's me that's changed."

It was then that Merlin made the decision to wait before sharing the information. With a smile on his face and a smiling mob of new friends around him, Arno looked as if he had never eaten a sweetcake before. Moreover, he looked like he had never seen sunshine before, or the blue sky over their heads. Even if he claimed not to remember anything of his time as a statue, he was acting like a prisoner released from a dungeon, wanting nothing more than to stare in awe at the grass beneath his feet.

So, in spite of his better judgement, Merlin found himself being dragged through Camelot at Arno's behest, looking at it through new eyes. Arno delighted in any small detail in the city, even inconsequential parts that no one else would have noticed, let alone cared about. He stopped at every stall, speaking to them with the utmost politeness and paying them every attention, so that by the time he came to negotiating price or even an exchange, it was usually waved away with a smile. None even seemed bothered by the intrusion if he chose to move on.

Merlin was beginning to wonder if it was a skill they had taught in the olden days.

Either that or it was simply the glowing happiness in his eyes and in his smile that simply erased their desire for money on the spot.

Nevertheless, Merlin was surprised to find that he was not immune to the charm, either. As they walked, he found himself opening up about his life as a warlock, up to and including his life at Camelot – though with careful consideration with the words he chose in public. He explained his situation with Arthur and their destiny to bring magic, and all the while Arno listened attentively, nodding and smiling as he heard something he recognised. He asked questions, too, pulling out details about their adventures together, or how the city functioned without magic, or how the purge had come about in the first place.

It was strange for Merlin to realise that there was no need to hide a thing from the man at his side, because unlike every citizen in Camelot he had absolutely no stigmas about magic. Gaius knew and loved him without reservation, and Lancelot was a trusted enough friend to keep the secret for him, but with both, they knew the importance of keeping it just that – a secret. Even the sorcerers themselves had trouble dealing with the existence of magic, despite the fact that they were able to wield it. Morgana's experience was a fresh reminder of that fact.

For Arno, it was a bizarre concept to hide one's magic in any situation, especially when it was being used to save the kingdom. As he heard the stories that tumbled from the recesses of Merlin's memory, he became more incredulous at the thought of Merlin being incarcerated should the king find out the truth.

"Even after you saved his life?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"And his son's life?"

"Even then."

"Even after the dragon, after Morgana, after _everything _that you've done for them?"

"Without a thought."

Before he even knew it, they had walked around the whole of Camelot without a single pause, and Merlin had detailed many of his adventures to Arno, and had even heard much of ancient Camelot in the meantime.

Back then, he learned, there were barely any distinguishing class features between the sorcerers and the knights. There were the same significances placed upon birth and breeding for both – which is why, Arno explained, that even if one was _trained _as a knight (as Arno was) it was a different station from being a noble-born warrior, and that was why he was involved in the lowest, most despicable acts committed within the castle walls. Their superiors seemed to view it as a double edged blade if the noble knights were involved; not only would they be disillusioned and scarred about their culture, but they would do a lousy job of fixing it as well. All round, it was simpler to put the tougher – but essentially disposable – knights such as Arno on the important tasks.

Of course, this also meant that the blood policy separating the nobles from the trained knights was far stricter than it was now. It was of vital importance to the kingdom not to let commoners pass as nobles and, even more significantly, not to let nobles try and pass as a knight in training; the latter of which, incidentally, was surprisingly much more common than the former. Commoners knew they would be executed the second they were found out, but nobles thought only of the excitement and violence they would participate in as a trained knight.

The sorcerers themselves, well, they were like any other men, noble or otherwise. They had their own tournaments – even close-range and long-range specific, depending on the host and the prevalence of magic users – and they had just as much arrogance, honour and sense of duty as anyone.

But they were recruited based solely on the technique with which they could perform. Any man who swings a sword at a target at least a chance of hitting it; a sorcerer who couldn't use offensive, defensive or even coherent spells was no use to Camelot. It didn't matter that they could cite their own power through the ages, or brag that they would be able to attempt the toughest spells without killing themselves; they needed to actually _do _something with their gifts, to have practical skills.

Something, Arno commented, that Merlin had in spades.

He also explained that if Merlin had lived in Camelot during his time, he would have been exalted and praised for his craft. Warlocks had been heard of, but Arno himself had never met any true ones during his time in the castle, and he would have been sent straight to the royal family – with or without an epic destiny decreeing it.

Even so, the sorcerers fought amongst themselves with as much ferocity as any other type of man; only their battles tended to attract more attention. Once the knights got involved, things had a tendency to simmer down, but that did not always stop the mess that occurred before hand. Unfortunately, many of the nobles and the knights were just as likely to cause a fuss, so it was hard to garner any real peace.

In what seemed like no time, the sun was already dipping beneath the horizon, and the two were making the decision to return home.

As they finally made the round trip back toward the castle, Arno startled Merlin by turning to him with a broad, awed smile on his face. "The people here are amazing," he announced, in lieu of absolutely nothing. Merlin just snorted. "No, really. There aren't people like you in my Camelot, people that would accept a stranger into their lives like you have me. It's… strange." Truly, he looked puzzled by it. "To say the least. I don't think you'd have survived a day in my world – and I say that as a heartfelt compliment, really," he chuckled.

"Thank you," Merlin said slowly, his cheeks slightly flushed in his embarrassment. "It doesn't seem like you would fit there, either."

"Ah. Different times, my young friend, different times. If you found me in the midst of a war, I doubt you would find me so agreeable. Imagine me now an ignorant cave-dweller stepping into the sunshine for the first time, and wondering how he could have missed out on the light for so long." He paused as if considering his own enthused words, and then nodded in satisfaction, his mouth quirking up.

As he looked up at the serene smile on the man's face, Merlin just couldn't do it anymore.

He put a hand on Arno's large shoulder, stopping him mid-stride, and looked him directly in the eye. "I'm so sorry, Arno," he said, "but I have something to tell you about Cadence."

**AN: I'm a bit indifferent to the layout of this chapter, because I know it can be a bit dull seeing chunks of stuff (ie: long paras without real dialogue) but I wanted to play around with Camelot history for a little bit :) **


	6. An Unreturned, Unyielding Kiss

**AN: Sad chapter, but the next will be happier :) It's officially got Gwaine in it, now. **

**Corey YoungBlood: Thanks for the review, and I felt this chapter would answer your question about Cadence. **

**If not (and if anyone is wondering) unfortunately, she is definitely gone. I probably should have put this in the warnings, but at the heart of this fic, it's not a happy story. Barring moments of brotherly love and natural BBC Merlin levity, it's a sad one. **

**With that in mind, enjoy! :) **

"Are you sure?" Arno asked quietly, standing outside the seemingly innocuous storeroom door with his fingers touching the handle.

A strange stillness had settled over him after Merlin had broken the news about Cadence. It seemed to him that it was somehow worse for Arno to have proof of her demise before him, as opposed to ignorance. Perhaps if he had found nothing about her, he could have continued with his memory unbroken, as if nothing had happened to her at all. To find that she was not only dead, but doomed to the same fate as he, took a physical toll on the man.

Merlin nodded silently.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped through into the dusty space. It was filled with random chests and objects that ranged from swords and shields to dresses and decorative sceptres, and there were a few thin marble columns holding the ceiling up. And there, at the end of the room, was a lone pedestal bearing a sculpture of a woman that was cruelly cut off at the waist. Her right arm had broken off too, and it stopped at the shoulder. It was as shocking to see as any other grisly wound and it made Merlin wince just to look upon it.

The rest was thankfully intact; her left arm, her torso and her face remained untarnished by time.

Had Merlin been hoping that it would be a misunderstanding, or that it was another statue that Arthur had been thinking of, that wish was cruelly dashed in a matter of moments.

Arno's face crumpled as his gaze finally landed on her, and it seemed to Merlin that the perpetual light in his eyes, the one that had burned through his stone prison and drawn everyone in Camelot to him had finally, tragically, been extinguished. It was only then that he realised Arno had probably been harbouring the very same hope.

"Cadence," Arno whispered brokenly, shuddering as his fingertips touched the jagged edge of her shoulder. "What did they do to you?" He ran his hands so gently over the stone that she could have been made of sand, and would not have crumbled. He traced the planes of her face, caressing her cold cheek, and he stroked her solid locks of hair.

"She was beautiful," Merlin murmured sadly. He stood a respectful distance from the two, his head bowed in empathy of the man's grief.

"Yes, she was," Arno agreed in a soft voice. Then, he sighed; a breathy, helpless sound that made Merlin's eyes prickle with water. His fingertips touched the soft curve of her mouth. "They should have left her _smiling_," he said. "They should have at least let her have that, rather than… making her stay all this time with her sadness. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy. She should have been happy forever."

Then, "No," he cut himself off, a low anger seeping into the despair in his voice, "she shouldn't have lived forever. She should have lived her life, and then died her death – with me there holding her hand."

"I'm sorry, Arno."

The man sniffed, wiping at the tears leaking from his eyes, and his lips bent in a bittersweet smile. "So am I."

Merlin waited a few seconds before offering, "I can put some protective wards around her, if you want me to. It would prevent history from repeating itself, if anyone came in here; no one would be able to harm her ever again."

It was the final straw for Arno; his head bowed and his body hunched forward as a silent sob racked his body. He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly as his face contorted in grief, desperately trying to stem the tears streaming down his cheeks. Merlin's expression tightened in sympathy as he watched Arno fighting for control, his broad shoulders trembling with effort and sadness. Finally, he managed to gasp out a reply.

"Thank you, Merlin," he breathed in a low voice. "You don't know what that would mean to me."

Hesitantly, Merlin walked forward and placed his hand on the older man's shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. Arno looked down at him with watery eyes and summoned a heartbroken smile for his only living friend.

"I suppose it's a mercy that she didn't awaken as I did," he said, in a palpable struggle to return to his normal, positive self. "I imagine it would have been quite a shock to wake up to." Despite his efforts, his voice broke a little on the last word.

"I'm sure she didn't feel any pain," Merlin assured him gently.

Sincere gratitude shone in Arno's eyes. "Thank you," he said again, and patted Merlin's shoulder in an affectionate gesture. "You're a good man, Merlin – the kindest I've ever met."

A tiny embarrassed smile appeared on Merlin's lips, and he shook his head. "You must not have known very nice people, then."

"No, I suppose I didn't," Arno mused. "Perhaps if Landon had had an advisor like you in my time, it wouldn't have become the hell that it did while we were there." He didn't seem to realise he spoke as a plural; his eyes were far away again. His expression was so vacant it was probably he didn't notice he was still speaking. "Camelot owes you much, Merlin, probably more than anyone else in history. I hope Arthur realises that soon."

Merlin was momentarily rendered speechless by the freely given words; to say that it wasn't something he was accustomed to would be a gross understatement.

Arno didn't notice his startled expression; he was gazing at Cadence's likeness once more, his eyes hollow and sad. There had been more life in his face when it had been made of stone.

Merlin saw the look, and withdrew slightly. "I'll be outside," he murmured, and then took his leave.

Arno stood shock-still for a long minute, before smiling softly. "I saw you two days ago," he said out loud, his voice a mixture of sadness and macabre humour. "Two days and two hundred years ago." He exhaled slowly, his expression contorting for a moment before he managed to smoothen it. "I am so sorry. I hope you can't hear me, my love, more than anything I hope these words are falling on deaf ears that are long since slumbering, but if they aren't, you know how much I love you. I will always love you – even the stone couldn't freeze that, and it never will."

With infinite gentleness, he leant forward and pressed his warm lips to her sculpted cheek, holding an unreturned, unyielding kiss for a brief moment before pulling away. Then he walked out of the storeroom, all too aware that there was no gaze following his exit.

* * *

><p>After visiting the town and Cadence's statue they spent the next day in the keep, but it was clear that Arno was in a different place altogether. He continued to help Merlin with his chores – despite the servant's emphatic refusals and protests – the precision and delicacy of his movements belying his complete lack of focus. He responded politely to Merlin's intermittent queries, and smiled at his attempts to light the mood, but he had his statue eyes once more.<p>

Even Arthur seemed to read into the atmosphere, displaying unprecedented insight that both shocked and awed Merlin. The single time he returned from training, he walked into his chambers to see Arno assisting Merlin in the mending of one of his tunics. Though he would have, at one time, made a prattish comment about Merlin slacking off on his work, or that he shouldn't be roping another guest into doing his job for him, he did nothing of the sort. He strode in, took one look at Arno's complete lack of focus and Merlin's entreating look, and simply commented that the patch looked good before continuing with his day.

Finally, Merlin just couldn't continue. He'd only known the man a short time, and yet he couldn't bear the sight of him hurting; or worse, trying so hard not to show his pain. So, Merlin went to the one person that had always had the unfailing ability to make him feel cheerful – often when he didn't really want to, and when it was completely inappropriate to do so.

"So," Gwaine said, as the two strode down the corridor together, "in short, your friend is in need of a good, strong drink?"

"That's one way of putting it. Of course, you're the first one that came to mind."

The joyful knight feigned an affronted look that was marred by the mirth glinting in his eyes. "What must you think of me, then? I'm offended, Merlin."

"Only because you're the only person who knows how to have fun around here," Merlin joked, rolling his eyes at Gwaine's dramatics.

"Ah, my friend, now you're just flattering me."

Merlin was still chuckling to himself as they walked out into the palace gardens, where Arno was walking slowly through the plants, an outwardly calm look on his face. Gwaine strode over to the man and threw his arm around Arno's shoulders midstride. Merlin clapped a hand on his friend's back from the other side and, without a word, they both steered him toward the lower streets of Camelot, towards the tavern.


	7. A Cautionary Tale of CrownSnatching

"You have… _no _idea how easy you have it here!" Arno exclaimed, long after they had lost count of the tankards they had all ordered. He seemed to delight in teasing them about it; pure enjoyment shone in his eyes as he needled them on their relative inexperience.

"Easy?" Gwaine crowed indignantly.

Merlin swayed slightly in his seat as he leant forward to point his finger in Arno's face. His dark hair was pointing in all directions where he had run his fingers through it, many times. "D'you know how many times Camelot has been attacked? Or – or – or how many times the king has almost died?"

"Or how many times we've had to save Arthur's royal backside," Gwaine inserted.

"Exactly! I have almost died that many times… I've actually lost count now." Gwaine patted Merlin's back sympathetically.

Arno wasn't impressed. "Please," he scoffed, laughing, "in my Cam—in my place, if someone wasn't trying to kill you at least twice a week, you weren't doing your job properly. There were…" He paused to hiccup slightly and then paused, waiting to see if anything more came of it. Then, he continued, "There were sons trying to kill fathers, mothers trying to kill sons, cousins killing daughters, horses killing their riders – and that is something you will never forget, believe me. The mess…" He shuddered.

Gwaine whipped his head around to look warily at the door, beyond which the horses were reined at the post outside.

"You know," Arno said loudly, suddenly laughing harder, "we even had old Avery havin' a go at the crown that one time. Eighty years old, barely able to remember his own mane – I mean name," he amended, chuckling. "Anyway, he stumbles up the stairs in the throne room during some meeting, and just –" He popped his lips in a sucking sound. "- yanks the crown off the king's head. 'Course, he pulled it too hard, and the gold was too heavy, so he ended up flying back down the steps again. The stupid thing pulled him all the way after it! Oh, for _one second_ he sailed over that velvet carpet like, like, I don't know, some odd, wrinkled bird with his robes flying up, and then bam - broke his neck." He slapped the table with the flat of his palm for emphasis, and then dissolved into laughter.

He was so amused at the story that he didn't notice the identical mixture of horror and fascination that was imprinted on both Merlin and Gwaine's faces as they watched him guffaw at the cautionary tale of crown-snatching. Their wide eyes met as Arno's deep laugh was still running strong, and Gwaine gave an odd little half shrug, a slow grin building on his face. Soon, all three of them were howling with the infectious laughter that belonged solely to happy drunks.

When they finally reached their limit, it was Merlin who had to be carted home over Arno's shoulder like a sack of rice, bouncing lightly with every step the muscular man took. Gwaine was not much better; he stumbled along beside the two, struggling to contain his own intense amusement at the hilarious look of bewildered consternation on Merlin's face every time his head collided with Arno's back.

Oddly enough, the recently-recovered statue was the one who had drank the most alcohol of any of them – much to Gwaine's astonishment, his best drinking challenge had not only been accepted, but completely fulfilled to the last drop – but Arno simply explained that the mead had been 'watered down' and 'mild' compared to that of his real home. Still, it wouldn't be quite accurate to call him sober, either, or even 'not drunk' as he zigzagged slightly over the cobbled stones.

"You know," Merlin murmured sickly from his position on Arno's shoulder as they swerved yet again, "I really think you should put me down, now."

Gwaine peered closely at his friend's upside-down countenance. "You are looking a bit green there, aren't you? Maybe you ought to put him down, big man."

Arno did just that. However, the second Merlin's feet touched the ground, his entire skinny frame seemed to cave in on itself before he toppled lightly onto the stone. Gwaine and Arno simultaneously burst into laughter at the startled, bemused look that appeared on the young man's face the second his rear hit the floor, and it was a while before Gwaine managed to summon the self-control necessary to extend his hand to help him back to his feet.

They finally managed to stagger their way back to the castle, with Merlin ineffectually trying to guide his knightly friend back to his quarters as he had done before. But with Arno in the guest quarters nearby, which contained more than enough beds for all of them, it was mutually decided that it was in the best interests of the city that none of them be allowed to roam freely around Camelot in their current state.

"Have I ever told you what a great friend you are?" Gwaine asked Merlin, as the two of them fought their way through the door, each with an arm over the other's shoulders.

"Yes!" Merlin exclaimed, grinning widely. "Yes, you have! Lots of times."

They both exchanged a huge, beaming smile as they remembered the first time Merlin had to haul Gwaine back from the tavern, with much the same dialogue. Only this time, Merlin was leaning just as heavily on his friend as Gwaine was on him. It had become a strange balancing act between the two drunken men, each trying to equate the other's stagger with an opposite one of their own. Needless to say, it was only Arno's interference that stopped them from crashing down in a flailing mess of limbs and laughter.

"Oh, good," Gwaine said, patting Merlin's cheek clumsily. Without warning, he threw a hand out to catch Arno's attention. "This here," – He haphazardly pulled a staggering Merlin around as evidence – "this is my very best friend in the world," he announced smugly, if slightly unintelligibly, as Merlin glowed with pride and grinned from ear to ear. Gwaine pointed a finger in Arno's face. "And you, you might just be the best drinking buddy that I have ever had."

Without warning, the two of them began stumbling over their own legs, until Merlin finally managed to hook his feet underneath Gwaine's and unintentionally send him sprawling.

_Miraculously_, the knight found himself suddenly falling on a conveniently placed cot that he could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago. He didn't see the profound look of pained concentration on Merlin's face or the brief golden illumination in the room as he landed square onto the mattress.

"Ah, thank you, my friend," Gwaine mumbled gratefully. He flashed the both a brilliant smile before promptly turning his face into the pillow and falling asleep.

Giggling helplessly, Merlin crashed onto the closest bed he could find and sunk similarly into the covers, his eyes slipping shut. Arno managed to summon the presence of mind to shut the door before making the arduous journey to his own bed.

"Merlin?" he murmured into the darkness, and received and encouraging grunt in response. "Thank you," he said sleepily. "I enjoyed myself tonight. I didn't… expect that." He was barely conscious now.

Merlin peeled an eyelid back to look over at his friend, whose slack expression was surprisingly peaceful, illuminated by the moonlight. "S'alright, Arno. You won't be thanking me tomorrow morning." He snorted into the pillow, too dizzy and warm to really consider the hangover awaiting them.

"I think I want to start travelling again. Maybe – see some other cities." An amused sound hummed in the other man's throat. "Perhaps I'll take up art. I always liked it, you know, but… wasn't so much an option…"

"You could be a sculptor," Merlin chuckled, on the edge of sleep.

His laugh rumbled through his chest, like a cat purring. "I could. Oh, I'm crying again," Arno complained, unashamedly laughing at himself. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

Merlin glanced over, about to protest at the obviously ludicrous statement, but shook his head as he saw his companion's bone-dry eyes and cheeks. "You're not crying," he yawned.

Arno touched his face in puzzlement, staring at the lack of moisture on his fingertips. "Huh. Ah, well… good night, my young friend."

If Merlin managed a reply, neither of them was awake to hear it.


	8. A Kernel of Wisdom

Merlin was genuinely fond of Gwaine. He loved the foolhardy man like a brother, or the best friend that he had once lost, and he was nearly always glad when he got to spend time with him. But that did _not_ mean Gwaine's voice was the first thing he ever wanted to hear in the morning.

"Merlin…. Merlin… Me-e-erlin…."

The young sorcerer's eyes opened unwillingly, and shut again almost immediately afterwards as he was pulled back down into the soft, warm, comforting waves of –

"Merlin!"

Merlin shot up in his bed, greeted by the sight of Gwaine's bright, grinning face in front of him – something that was not conducive to easing the pounding in his skull. The sunlight streaming in through the window made him wince, as did the deafening sound of the sheets rustling as they fell away from his body.

"The Princess is at the door," Gwaine continued with a wink. "Should I tell him to shove it, or d'you think that would be too uncivilised an address from a knight of Camelot?" Whether it was a tolerance borne out of long, repeated practice or simply sheer force of will, the cheerful man seemed to bear no effect of their night of drinking. Every loose curl and wave of his hair was in place, and his eyes were shining and clear in his clean face.

"Arthur," Merlin groaned in frustration, pressing his fist to his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Well, judging by the pissed off expression on his face, time to get a new servant."

Almost on cue, Arthur's irritated voice suddenly came loud and clear through the wooden door. "I can hear you in there, you know."

"Funny how he didn't say anything when I called him a princess, then," Gwaine commented, lifting one eyebrow dubiously. Yet he still sauntered over to the door and yanked it open, and Arthur marched through without hesitation, looking down at Merlin.

"You're still in bed?" he exclaimed incredulously, and Merlin cringed away from him. "Do you know, I had to get my own breakfast this morning because you weren't there to fetch it for me!" Behind the prince, Gwaine rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he strapped his belt around his waist.

"Is that why you're shouting so loud?" Merlin demanded feebly, "Because you're hungry?"

"I am _not –_" Arthur broke off, and then took a deep breath. "I am not shouting," he repeated in a determinedly calm tone. "I am very quietly telling you that if you don't clean my bedchambers soon, you'll be mucking out the stables for a month. Am I clear?"

"Deafeningly."

"Good." Arthur turned as if to leave, and then cast a glance at his shuddering manservant. Something almost like pitying concern passed across his features. "How much did you all drink last night anyway?" he asked, shooting an accusatory glance at Gwaine.

"I don't know," the knight replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "You can tell us exactly how much when you get the bill."

It was only after Arthur's eyes bugged out of his skull and his head threatened to explode that they had the decency to tell him that Gwaine had been joking. Needless to say, Arthur had exited to the room with an interesting blend of relief, rage and a tiny hint of despair on his face.

As he lurched out of bed, Merlin noticed for the first time that the third bunk was empty.

"Where did Arno go?" he grumbled as he splashed water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up.

Gwaine shrugged again. "Not sure. He was gone by the time I woke up." With a suppressed smile at Merlin's wet, erratic hairdo as the boy emerged from the basin, Gwaine pulled out a small, red vial from his pocket and pressed it into the boy's hand.

"It'll help, trust me," he urged, clapping him on the shoulder in empathy. Then, he sighed and headed for the door. "Unfortunately, duty calls." With another quick grin and a wink, he was out the door as well, leaving Merlin to eye the bottle in his hand with equal amounts suspicion and gratitude.

* * *

><p>Merlin was still smiling by the time he burst into Arthur's chambers. Rather than tasting worse than horse manure – something that, unfortunately, Merlin could verify first-hand – the liquid cure the knight had offered had tasted like nothing at all. Really, he thought, he should have had Gwaine on his side that single time that Gaius had given him that 'remedy' for a hangover that time with Lancelot. Absently, he wondered why it seemed that the current knights of Camelot always proved to be a horrible influence.<p>

To avoid any further unpleasantness with Prince Arthur – a distinctly more irritating version of the other, rarely prevailing, unprattish 'Arthur' – Merlin went about his duties as he always would, cleaning up after Arthur and restoring his chambers to their unnatural state of order.

He'd barely finished straightening things up when Arthur found him there, telling him to bring his armour and sword down to the training ring. Out in the field, the knights were already in full swing – literally.

Sir Leon just ducked under Percival's sword in time, the blade skimming the air above his hair, but Leon simply grinned and swept to the side, using his speed to keep out of the way of Sir Percival's strong blows. Nearby, Gwaine and Elyan were also locked in a sparring match, each of them intently focussed on the battle and using each 'unconventional' technique they had learned outside of Camelot's walls. Finally, Lancelot and Arthur were centred in the middle of the ring, their expressions tight with effort as their blades clashed relentlessly.

Merlin stood on the sidelines, his eyes moving between each of the pairs with a unique pride shining in those cerulean orbs. The sword he had been sharpening lay discarded against his knee, as he had long since been distracted by the battles unfolding, and the improvements that even Merlin's relatively untrained eye could see – they were all becoming better and stronger before him, becoming knights of legend.

Contrastingly, Merlin's face became more and more serene as the fights became more lively and active, as if their effort was calming him down by the second. In reality, he was just receiving long awaited reassurance of Arthur's destiny, and the peace of mind that came with knowing there were six other people that he knew he could trust to protect the once and future king, if the need arose.

"Merlin," a friendly voice called from behind him.

Seven, he amended silently, and lifted a hand in greeting as Arno lithely jumped the fence and made his way over. There was an excited smile on the older man's face, one that Merlin couldn't quite place, and the younger man's face twisted into a politely puzzled expression.

"What's got you looking so pleased?" he asked cheekily, smiling.

"I took some of my own advice," Arno replied, "and I went out to buy some… _supplies_." In explanation, he lifted the leather satchel he had strung across his shoulder and handed it to his young friend. Merlin sifted through the contents as Arno settled himself against the fence beside him, and Merlin actually felt his mouth drop open in surprise. There were thin sheets of paper, charcoal...

"You're really becoming an artist? That's brilliant!" he crowed, beaming up at Arno with sincere gladness. "I'm happy for you."

"Not quite a sculptor yet," Arno winked, "but I'm thinking of painting for a while, getting a taste for it."

Merlin pulled a face. "I'm not sure you're supposed to actually _eat_ the paints."

Arno snorted in amusement, shaking his head. "Thank you for that kernel of wisdom, Merlin, but I think I might have caught on to that part of the craft already." He sighed, a contented sound. "No, really, though, I can't thank you enough."

"Well, you've certainly tried. I was glad to help, Arno," he said earnestly, his eyes sincere and emphatic as he met the other man's gaze. "If there's anything else I can do, I want you to tell me."

"No, you've done more than enough for me already. I'll settle for burdening you with more of your hospitality whenever I come back to visit, I think."

Merlin smiled knowingly; in a way, he hadn't truly expected the man to stay. After all, if he had been stuck in Camelot that long without moving, he'd probably want to leave, too. "Yes, you've been such a burden," he said sarcastically, smirking. "Really, you haven't helped in the slightest."

Arno couldn't help but laugh; his deep chuckle resonated in the open air, making Merlin join in whether he wanted to or not.

"Really though," Merlin urged, "you're welcome any time you wish to come back. I'm sure Cadence would have liked you visiting home… You're welcome any time," he repeated, feeling he may have overstepped his boundaries.

"Merlin!" Arthur suddenly bellowed.

"Just ignore whatever he says," Merlin began to joke, but was interrupted by a sudden chorus of shouts from the knights ahead of them. A flash of silver was falling from the air toward them, and before he could even think of a spell, the knife was arcing out of the sky directly above them. Arno stepped in front of him and shoved him to the side, and Merlin collapsed unceremoniously into the grass. There was an odd, crunching noise as the knife hit down, and though Merlin couldn't see the result, he dared to hope that the knife had buried itself harmlessly in the hard dirt.

Cringing slightly, he looked up to survey the damage. His stomach dropped as he saw the hilt sticking out of the top of Arno's boot.

"Oh, n—" he began, and then cut off as Arno reached down and jerked it out of his foot as if nothing had happened. Merlin was completely lost for a split second, and then he felt ice seeping through his belly as dreadful realisation sunk in.

"Is everyone alright?" Arthur demanded as he jogged over. "Is anyone injured?" In an instant, his voice had transformed from that of a frequently arrogant prince to that of a concerned and authoritative leader. "Merlin, are you hurt?" he asked concernedly, glancing over at where he was still sprawled on the ground.

Lancelot, who was closest, leant down and pulled the numb sorcerer to his feet, brushing the grass off of him and checking him over for injury.

"He's fine," Lancelot told the prince, who nodded in relief.

The rest of the knights were staring at the mangled, twisted mess that used to be the throwing knife, oblivious to the horrifying significance of the damage done to the blade.

Elyan whistled under his breath. "I guess that squire's not getting his knife back after all."

"Considering he could have killed someone, I think that's rather fitting," Leon said reasonably, shaking his head in wonder at the destroyed metal before them.

"No wonder the grass is dying," Arthur said in wonder, "if it's solid enough to do this to a knife. There must be stone or something under there." He stomped his foot experimentally against the earth.

"On the bright side," Gwaine chimed in, the corner of his mouth pulling up, "can you imagine how good that kid's gonna be if he learns to aim?"

"He does have an impressive arm," Percival agreed.

The incident already forgotten in the men's minds, the knights walked calmly back to their training, debating whether or not to remove the boy from his lessons. Merlin heard Lancelot's joking comments about Percival's authority on the subject of arms, but he wasn't really listening; he was staring in horror at Arno.

The man had taken the unsharpened sword from the ground at Merlin's feet, and was tapping the flat edge against the toe of his boot. Beneath the sound of the sword slapping against leather, there was the discernible thump of metal hitting stone.


	9. Stone Skin

Not for the first time, Gaius was violently pulled from his study by the desperate shout of his name outside the infirmary.

"Gaius!" Merlin cried again, and Gaius hurried to open the door to let him in.

"What?" he asked wearily, but he was quickly pushed to the side as both his ward and Arno made their difficult way into the room. Gaius' brow pulled together in confusion as he watched the taller man limp slightly across the floor to sink onto the closest bench. Arno met the physician's eyes squarely as he sat, holding his gaze steadily in warning before Gaius' attention was pulled away once more.

Merlin seized Gaius' arm desperately, his eyes despairing and wild in his young face. "Gaius we've got to find a cure for the spell," he said, the words tumbling from his lips. "His body is starting to revert back into a statue; his foot's almost completely stone now – look!"

Arno had to slit the sides of his shoe open in order to get it off of his foot, but once it was gone, it revealed the hardened rock flesh of his toes and the arch of his foot. His heel still retained some flexibility to it, but already, white cracks were visibly creeping up his skin.

Immediately, Gaius sat beside him, inspecting the limb with the trained eye of a healer as Merlin stood anxiously by his side.

"Do you feel any pain?" Gaius asked Arno, who shook his head.

"I don't feel anything," he said in a low voice, looking down at the foot as though it were someone else's. "I thought my boots were just too small, to be honest." He flashed a quick smile in a bittersweet effort to lighten the mood.

"I'm afraid I don't know of any non-magical means to cure this affliction," Gaius admitted after a long moment, leaning back and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I've never heard of anything like it. If we're right about it being a curse, then the only way to restore him to health would be to find the right spell to remove it."

Merlin took a deep breath, his expression filling with a familiar, stubborn determination. "Then we find the spell," he declared, and there was absolutely no doubt in his voice.

* * *

><p>But no matter how determined Merlin was to save his friend, he couldn't produce answers where they were none. He and Gaius scoured every single book they had looking for Arno's curse, but they couldn't find any spells that even remotely described what was happening to him. Without the original curse, there was no way they could find a way to reverse it.<p>

"Are we sure there's nothing else at the library?" Merlin asked wanly, not realising it was the third time he had asked the question.

"Positive," Gaius replied, just as tiredly.

Merlin had already searched the library from top to bottom, using every resource available. He even in the hidden room for the more restricted spellbooks - one of which was written in a dark red-brown ink that looked suspiciously like blood - but there was no result. In spite of himself, Merlin was beginning to lose his hope.

Even worse, Arno wouldn't even blame him for it. He continually urged Merlin to get some rest, telling him that they would find a solution in the morning even though he was slowly turning back to stone as he spoke. Both of his feet had reverted completely at this point and the white marble climbing up his ankles and seeping into his calves. Though he claimed it was a painless ordeal, the look on his face revealed the discomfort he was feeling.

"There's got to be something!" Merlin burst out in frustration, slamming his latest book closed with a bang. At Gaius' reproachful look, he sobered, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just…" He cast a glance up at where Arno lay reclined on Merlin's bed, flicking through another tome. "… I can't stand to think of him turning back to that, Gaius, not when I can do something about. Living as a statue would be hard enough on any man, but to be freed, to know what it's like to come back to life and then have it taken away again? It's cruel."

"I agree, but there isn't anything we can do for him right now. This is old magic, Merlin, spells that were created long before the purge, and they may have been lost over the centuries that have passed since his time."

"What about Taliesin? At the crystal caves, you said he was an old and powerful sorcerer, maybe if I –"

"Taliesin contacted you for a very specific reason," Gaius interrupted, his voice soft and reasonable. "Even if he remains there, I doubt he would lend his help in this instance."

Merlin's eyes fell to the table-top as he was forced to swallow past the tightness in his throat. "I don't want him to live like that, Gaius, cursed into…" He stopped, suddenly, making Gaius straighten in concern.

"Merlin?" he asked.

The boy glanced up quickly, his eyes suddenly wide and alert. The cogs were almost visible in his eyes as his thoughts played out behind them, his excitement growing each second. "What if it isn't a curse?" he babbled enthusiastically, each word on the tail of the next. "All this time, we've been assuming that someone deliberately punished him for something, put a curse on him and drove him to that life, but what if they didn't?"

"What are you getting at?" Gaius prodded.

Merlin was leaning forward on his elbows now, barely containing his sudden fervour as he gesticulated wildly. "Arno told me that he couldn't imagine why Isaac – the sorcerer – would want to curse him, when he'd thought they were friends. He thought he'd never find out why he did it, but what if Isaac wasn't trying to hurt him? He said there were always fights breaking out in Camelot back then, with people getting attacked in the corridors every day. What if Isaac was trying to _protect _Arno and Cadence, rather than hurt them? What if he knew that someone would try to assassinate them, or if he saw someone coming after them, and he turned them to stone so they couldn't be killed?"

Gaius' was nodding in agreement. "Then that wouldn't be in any of the sections that we've been reading," he continued, looking at their selection. "It would be a protective spell, or even a creation of armour of some kind…"

"Exactly!"

The two exchanged bright, charged smiles at this new opening in their ideas, a moment that was cut short by a muted thump from Merlin's chambers. "Eh… Merlin?" came an uncertain call a moment later.

Merlin was off his seat in an instant, bounding over to the room to check on him. Arno was still sitting upright in the bed; the book had toppled to the floor. Merlin almost wanted to laugh at himself for his anxiety as he moved to pick it up, but then he noticed the real problem.

With a self-deprecating smile, Arno held up his arms, which were already showing signs of hardening, too. He could evidently still move his torso and his face, but the stone was creeping along his wrists and the inside of his elbow, and had begun stiffening his fingers greatly.

"Dropped the book," he muttered apologetically, nodding at the fallen volume. "Would you mind?" Grimacing, he tried to flex his fingers. They responded slightly, moving tightly and slowly to his instruction but not nearly enough.

Merlin swallowed. "It'll be alright, Arno," he said. "I think we were wrong about Isaac – he wasn't trying to curse you, he was trying to protect you. Now that we know that, we should be able to find the spell to reverse this, and you'll be able to move again."

The man visibly tried to suppress his hope, something that cut at Merlin. "Oh? Oh, good. That's good, because I don't think these are quite the hands of an _artiste._"

"Don't worry," Merlin assured him. "I'll be back soon, and I'll have the right book this time. You just hold on, alright?"

"I won't go anywhere," Arno promised, and patiently set his stiff hands in his lap as Merlin sprinted out of the room.

* * *

><p>Not even a quarter of an hour later, Merlin came bursting through the infirmary doors again, practically singing in his excitement. Oblivious to the jolt he gave to Gaius' heart as he literally banged the door wide open, Merlin skidded to a stop by the table and dropped an open book onto its surface.<p>

"I've found it," he announced, panting for breath. He had obviously just run straight from the library all the way back through the castle. "It is a – protective – spell. 'S called – 'Stone Skin' – meant to – "

"I'm reading it, Merlin," Gaius said, eyes skimming over the words. "Sit down."

The young sorcerer fell into the chair, still breathing heavily. "I read some of it on the way," he explained, once he had recovered. "It's definitely the one, it says its used to make someone impervious for a short time, in case they need it so you see, Isaac really was trying to protect him from harm. You know what this means?"

"Merlin."

"If I can repair Cadence somehow, or I don't know, re-sculpt her body with magic, we can bring her out of the state, too, without harming her! She won't have to be stuck like that!"

"Merlin," Gaius repeated, more sharply. Merlin fell silent, eyes flicking from the book to his mentor's face.

"Yes?" he said expectantly. "What does it say about the counterspell?"

"It does say that the effect is meant to be temporary, to be removed once the target is safe from harm, but Merlin…"

There was an awful fear in the young man's eyes. "What, Gaius? Why are you looking like that?"

Gaius sighed heavily, turning the book around so Merlin could read the passage. "The reversal spell has to be cast by the one who used to the spell in the first place."

"But that's… that's ridiculous. Why would they make that a rule?"

"I suppose it was so that outsider sorcerers couldn't remove the protection – it would have to be taken away by someone who was truly trying to keep them safe."

"But Gaius," Merlin protested, "Isaac died hundreds of years ago, along with everyone else Arno ever knew, there's no way that he can cast that spell!"

"I'm sorry," Gaius said softly, his voice full of sadness.

Merlin looked as though he had been clubbed over the head. All of the happiness and victory that had lit his face only moments ago had drained from it, along with all the blood in his cheeks. "No. There has to be a way around it, they couldn't just…"

"Magic isn't always fair, Merlin. I'm very sorry… there's no way to reverse the spell."


	10. A Troubled Young Warlock

**AN: Just one more chapter to go. It's a fairly open and closed story, this one :) **

There were times in Gaius' life where he truly believed that he would do anything to take away Merlin's pain for him. Watching the boy sit with his head in his hands, face turned down so he could hide the frustrated tears gleaming in his eyes, Gaius knew that this was one of those times.

He rested his hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently to comfort him in the only way he could.

"I have to help him, Gaius," Merlin said to the table-top, his voice rough with emotion.

Gaius sighed heavily, and then picked up one of the heavy spellbooks again. "I suppose we could try again, there may be some sort of substitute for the counterspell…"

"No," Merlin protested wearily, lifting his head and leaning back in his chair. He blinked away the moisture in his eyes. "We've gone through every book here at least twice over, there's just… nothing." His entire face was flooded with despondency; it was as though something had fled from him, leaving him detached and empty in the chair. More than anything, he looked _small. _Hunched against the backrest with his knuckles buried in his eyes, he looked like he had shrunk down and lost half of his skinny mass.

It was this hopelessness that made Gaius hesitate, loathe to cast anymore despair on his boy, but he knew it would not be worth the heartbreak later if he did not. "Perhaps we ought to acknowledge the facts here," he ventured in a gentle tone. "We can either try an experimental remedy… or, we can accept that Arno will be reverting to his stone form soon, and make him as comfortable as possible. Sometimes that's all you can do for a patient."

After a long silence, Merlin dared to shake his head once. "I want to try."

Gaius found that he could not deny his boy that, even he had wanted to.

* * *

><p>Arno was sitting up in bed when Merlin entered; in the same painstaking position he had settled in when they first placed him there. When he saw Merlin, however, his face lit up in his perpetually friendly grin. "Hello again."<p>

"I want to try something," Merlin said quickly, hurrying to his bedside with the book clamped under his arm. "A few spells… they may be able to halt the effects long enough for us to find a more permanent solution – here, drink this," he directed, thrusting a small vial in Arno's direction, who accepted it with unmoving fingers.

Arno looked somewhat reticent, but manfully swallowed the draught as Merlin flipped open the right page. With some difficulty, Arno shifted his arm to let the vial fall gently onto the covers.

"Alright," Merlin breathed, positioning his hand to hover above Arno's where it lay still on the bed. His jaw was taut with tension and his expression consumed by concentration as he focussed, and then read aloud the incantation from the page. His eyes flashed their customary gold, and a thrill of energy passed from his hand into Arno's stone skin.

With bated breath, Merlin dropped his hand and waited for some sort of result. "Well?" he asked tightly after a few seconds. "Any change?"

Merlin's face was taut with anxiety as he watched his friend lift his arms and furrow his brow, obviously trying to shift his unmoving fingers. After a long moment, Arno exhaled softly, and then admitted, "No. Sorry."

"That's fine. That's fine. I'll try this one next."

Merlin did, attempting four more spells after that one, but each one had a lessened effect than that last. Every time, Merlin's determination grew and his desperation began to cut into him; it was as if he was being physically wounded, rather than just emotionally.

Finally, Arno intervened. "Merlin," he said steadily, lifting one stiff hand to interrupt the warlock's efforts. "My friend. I think it's time to admit defeat."

"No," Merlin protested instantly, fervently. "I can do this. There are still a few more I can try, things I can do that –"

Arno cut him off gently. "Please." Merlin quietened. "I have been a knight and a solider for many years now. I know when there is a battle I cannot win. I will not have you running yourself into the ground because of this, not when we both know the truth." He lowered his voice to a soft, kind murmur as he said, "We both know how this is going to end."

Almost, Merlin almost looked like he would deny the claim, but then something in him seemed to collapse on itself. He let the book fall shut on the covers. A look of profound sadness clouded over his features and he ran his fingers tiredly across his forehead. "I'm sorry," he managed, "I thought there would be something I could do, some other spell. I had hoped…"

Against any and all sense of sanity, Arno laughed, making Merlin's head shoot up in surprise.

"Oh, Merlin," he sighed, shaking his head with a sad smile playing on his lips. "I hadn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I stood in a castle corridor for hundreds of years without a single passing glance from anyone, and then one day I broke out of my stone prison, and I walked in the sunshine. I spoke to people in Camelot, I went to the market, and I befriended a troubled young warlock with a penchant for saving people." He quirked an eyebrow at that, and then sighed again. "Where I come from, we don't expect so many good things in a month, let alone a few short days - we test food for poison before we accept it. Apart from the days I had Cadence in my life, these were the most peaceful time I've ever had. I never expected it to last. Deep down, I always knew it was just a reprieve." His sad smile seemed to say that it was obvious.

"… You expected this to happen?" said Merlin, numbly.

"More or less. I had hoped that it would happen away from the city, to save you this guilt."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

Something almost like embarrassment twisted his mouth. "I suppose I'm more flawed than I care to admit," he confessed with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Some part of me hoped I'd turn out to be wrong, that I'd never turn back."

"So did I," Merlin murmured.

They were quiet for a short time, simply sharing the grief of the moment between them, but then Arno spoke again, an odd note in his voice. "If you would, though, I think I have a last request."

* * *

><p>"Gwaine!" Panting, Merlin pounded on the door again with both fists. "<em>Gwaine!"<em> He heard a mumbled reply emanating from within the knight's quarters and then, seconds later, the door was slowly pulled out of the way.

"Merlin?" Gwaine said in a sleepy voice, standing shirtless and dishevelled in the doorway. The moment he turned his bleary eyes onto his friend's anxious face, however, he straightened instantly. "What's happened?"

Merlin's eyes were still wide and frantic, his cheeks flushed. "It's Arno – please, Gwaine, I need your help, he's –"

Gwaine didn't need an explanation; the second the words left Merlin's mouth, he was already leaping to assist him. When it came to his closest friend, there was no question of whether or not to help him – that decision had already been made long ago. Within a matter of seconds, the knight had shrugged into a shirt and seized his sword where it lay freshly sharpened and treated. "Alright, let's go," he said without hesitation, and jogged after Merlin as he sped back down through the empty corridors.


	11. Goodbye, Arno

**AN: Last one! :)**

By the time Merlin and Gwaine came sprinting back to Gaius' chambers, Arno was already standing in the doorway, stiffly propped against the wooden frame. At this point, only a very small amount of elasticity left within his flesh, and while it was enough to straighten his body out from its seated position, he was still left unable to walk.

Even his neck had trouble shifting to see his approaching companions. "Gwaine!" he exclaimed when he saw the man, as cheerfully as he had when he was fully mobile. Gwaine slowed by the doorway, his expression clouding over with confusion and concern as he saw the state that Arno was in. "Ah, yes," said Arno in an uncomfortable tone, "it's a little bit complicated to explain."

The knight frowned for a moment longer, thinking hard, and then simply said, "No need."

"Here, help me," Merlin interrupted desperately. He moved around to Arno's left to seize a hold on his arm and shoulders, while Gwaine took the other side without a word of protest. "We have to get him to the north-west corridor."

"Right."

Grunting with effort, the three men – with Gaius acting as scout and door-opener for obvious reasons – began their difficult journey through the dim halls of Camelot. For his part, Arno looked almost ashamed to be causing them trouble on his behalf. Every time one of them stumbled, or grimaced at the weight of the increasingly-stone man, he would mutter a sincere apology that went ignored. The stone was slowly spreading over his skin at the same time, creating more weight for them to carry and more discomfort for him to bear in silence, and they were only three quarters of the way when he told them that he could no longer move his torso at all.

They all moved that little bit faster after he said it.

"We're almost there," Gaius said quietly, as they turned yet another corner in the long passageway. Never before now had the castle seemed such an endless labyrinth to the citizens of Camelot. "Just a few more meters."

"We'll get you there," Merlin promised in a strained whisper, struggling to maintain his hold as they shuffled along.

"It'll be fine," Gwaine added reassuringly. His voice belied the strength he was exerting on his side as he brushed damp strands of hair away from his forehead.

"Wait!" Gaius suddenly hissed, and all three froze, listening to the sound of voices.

"Gaius, we _can't _wait," Merlin hissed back, thin arms shaking slightly as they struggled to stay still.

"There are guards coming," the physician informed them sombrely.

"Get rid of them!"

"I can try and get to my sword," Gwaine said, "but I'd have to put him down first."

"Go," Arno suggested quietly, "leave me here, and come back once their gone. They won't suspect I'm anything but another piece of artwork in these halls."

Merlin shook his head, clenching his teeth. "No. If we leave you now, you may revert to stone before we can get you back."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Too late," Gwaine sighed, interrupting them both.

Seconds later, the glare of torches shone in their faces, shocking their night-adjusted eyes and making the four men cringe.

"What are you doing?" demanded a first, male voice.

"Are you trying to steal that sculpture?" snapped a second.

"That's theft!"

Merlin didn't have time to think about it. As Arno's rapidly growing weight dragged on his arms, making his whole frame tremble with weariness and his forehead bead in sweat, his natural instincts took over before he could consider the one uninformed witness amongst them. Without even summoning an incantation, the warlock reached for his magic. His eyes flashed gold, and several things happened at once.

The torches extinguished immediately, casting them into dimness once more, and under that cloak of shadows, the two guards suddenly found themselves thrown backwards into the wall. Their helmeted heads clanked together as they tumbled, echoing in a loud, metallic bang, and then both men slumped to the floor, senseless.

There was a striking sound as Gaius relit the torches.

Guilty, Merlin glanced at Gwaine, but he could not see the man's reaction from where he was standing, and they did not have the time right then.

"Go!" Merlin urged, reaffirming his grip on Arno's unyielding arm. "Now!"

This time, with their struggle fuelled by desperation and the aching of their muscles, they hurried forth at twice the speed of their journey so far. Within minutes, the door to the storeroom was in sight.

"Almost there," Merlin panted, stepping faster.

Arno's hair had begun to solidify around his face, freezing into perfectly sculpted waves of stone on top of his head.

Gaius hurried forward to open the door for them, and Gwaine and Merlin managed to manoeuvre Arno through the frame – which seemed suddenly much, much narrower than it had in previous visits – and carried him toward the back of the room. Gaius hovered by the door, looking out for any interruptions. Finally, as they came up upon the sole pedestal in the space, the two bearers were able to release their burden as they placed him on the floor.

"Are you sure about this?" Merlin asked breathlessly, looking at Cadence's likeness and back to Arno's face.

"I'm positive," he replied. His words came out with difficulty, slightly twisted with the effort of speaking past his hardening facial muscles. The stone lattice was spreading out across both cheeks, stretching his cheekbones into unblemished planes once more. "If I'm going to look at one thing for all of eternity… I want it to be her."

Arno's eyes softened as they landed on Merlin's face, which was contorted in more than simple weariness, and then moved to look at Gwaine. "You're a kind man, Sir Gwaine," he told him sincerely, "and I want to thank you for helping me, here. I hope Merlin explains everything, but just know that it was an honour to meet you. There's never been a knight quite like you."

Gwaine was uncharacteristically sombre as he nodded, leaning forward to clasp Arno's stone hand in both of his own and bowing his head. "Nor you, my friend."

Smiling tightly, Arno's looked to Merlin next. "Thank you, Merlin," he said softly, and there was an immense gratitude in his voice. "I could never repay what you've done for me… or for what you tried to do on my behalf. You truly are the greatest man that I've ever known, or ever will know for that matter, and there really is nothing more to it than that." His expression was such that if he could have shrugged a shoulder, he would have. The strain in his face intensified. "It's been… a privilege to call you friend."

Merlin could barely summon the will to find his own voice and when he did, those two words came out just as strained and choked as the stone man's had. "Goodbye, Arno."

In the moments before he was completely set, Arno's gaze moved back onto Cadence's statue that stood mere inches from his own. With his hands set stiff by his sides and his body frozen in marble, his face still managed to soften and shine the second he laid eyes on her. And as the stone swallowed his face entirely, his face was fixed not in a grimace of pain, but in an expression of pure adulation and love.

Then he was gone, leaving nothing but his stone likeness standing unmoving in place of the man he had been.

For a long minute, no one made a single sound.

Then, as the seconds ticked by with no movement or reaction from his solidified friend beside him, a tear began to roll down Merlin's cheek.

With a soft sigh, Gwaine reached over to his young friend and pulled him over into a loose embrace. After a moment's hesitation, Merlin's arms rose to clasp his friend in return, and Gwaine briefly ruffled the back of his hair in a comforting gesture.

Over the boy's shoulder, Gaius and Gwaine exchanged a look; the physician inclined his head once, smiling his gratitude to the knight.

* * *

><p>In the remaining hour before dawn, Merlin chose to remain in the storeroom rather than returning to his chambers. He dusted off Cadence's statue form with the utmost care, straightening her pedestal and gingerly sanding off and offending scratches on the stone's surface, and then placing Arno's effects in a small chest beside the two of them.<p>

Gaius had remained only long enough to offer his own sympathies to his ward, with comforting words and his own warm hug. Once he was certain that Merlin was well, he left with an assurance that he would deal with the prince should he come looking for his servant in the interim. It was an unspoken acknowledgement that Gwaine would be staying until Merlin was completely ready.

The knight did stay by Merlin's side throughout his ministrations, leaning back against one of the smooth columns and staying silent as he kept out of his friend's way.

Finally, with the absence of any caretaking possibilities for the frozen people before him, Merlin simply stepped back and sat himself down on the stone floor in the centre of the room. After a moment, Gwaine walked over and sat beside him.

"You alright?" he asked in a slightly gruff voice, careful not to look too closely at his friend as he spoke.

Merlin's lips quirked up at the corners just a tad, and he managed a small shrug. "Yes." With a sigh, he added, "He was a good man."

"Yeah, he was," Gwaine agreed. "He didn't deserve that fate."

"I can't imagine anyone would."

The pair was quiet for a short time, until the atmosphere lightened enough to reassure Gwaine's concerns for his friend. Then, he inhaled deeply and slapped his hands lightly on his knees.

"You know," he commented idly, "we really should have a conversation about what happened back there. With the guards. With our friend, there." He gestured with one gloved hand to Arno's stone form. "And about your mysterious abundance of knowledge on magic. I can only imagine that that would be a_ very _interesting story."

Merlin had suddenly gone very still where he sat, peering at Gwaine from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. The man didn't look angry or offended at all; quite the opposite, in fact. A small grin was playing on his face, and his warm eyes sparkled.

"But not today," Gwaine continued calmly, allaying Merlin's anxiety. Contrary to everything Merlin had been trained to believe about the public, there was no judgement in his friend's face, despite knowing his secret. Gwaine was looking at Merlin just as he had every other day. With a nonchalant acceptance that seemed to belong to the easy-going knight alone, he clasped Merlin's shoulder briefly and then stood, stretching his muscles. "It doesn't make any difference to me, and to be honest, I get the feeling you've got enough on your mind." As he strolled toward the exit, he called back, "You know where to find me, if you want to talk."

Then he was gone, leaving Merlin staring blankly in his wake and wondering at the strange, wandering, tavern-frequenting knight that had somehow turned out to be one of the best friends he'd ever had.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I may have indulged in a fluffy little ending with Gwaine and Merlin, but I love their friendship to bits! <strong>

**Thank you to everyone who took the time out to read this story, and to the people who chose to alert/favourite/review - I don't really fuss about responses, but you were all lovely and supportive, so it was just an added bonus :)**

**Hope you've enjoyed reading this, I know I had fun writing it. **

**xx**


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